Chapter 10 -Avianna-
\-Avianna-
By the time I enter the council chamber, the conversation has already begun. The doors close behind me with a quiet weight, sealing in low voices and controlled tension. The long table is already occupied, maps unrolled, markers placed with careful precision, as if the movement of armies can be reduced to something manageable when it’s confined to ink and distance.
My father stands at the head, one hand resting lightly against the table as he listens. King Erik stands opposite him, broader, more grounded, his attention fixed on the map as if he’s already walked every battlefield marked across it.
Rhydon is seated to King Erik’s right. He looks up when I approach, rising smoothly, every movement practiced into something effortless.
“Princess,” he says.
“Prince,” I return, taking the seat beside him.
Caylix settles behind me as I sit. The tether hums, present in a way I cannot ignore. Not after yesterday.
“…the southern line won’t hold if the outer territories continue to fall back,” King Erik is saying, his voice cutting cleanly through the room as if my arrival hasn’t shifted anything at all. “They’re not organized, but they’re persistent.”
“They don’t need structure,” my father says. “Only momentum. And given enough time, that becomes far more dangerous.”
My gaze drops to the map. The outer realms, marked in darker ink, expanding, too close.
“The alliance accelerates that timeline,” King Erik continues. “If Caelthar and Veylan stand united, we stabilize the central territories before the pressure reaches us.”
Rhydon studies the map for a moment before speaking, “We don’t move,” he says. “Not yet. Our borders are stable. Our formations are intact. There’s no reason to disrupt that before we’re fully aligned.”
My gaze follows the line he’s indicating, clean, structured, untouched. And then to where it isn’t.
“They’re already shifting that stability,” I say.
He glances at me, as if adjusting for a variable rather than engaging with it.
“They’re testing,” he replies. “That’s expected.”
“They’re advancing,” I correct.
Rhydon’s expression doesn’t change, but his attention settles more fully on me now.
“There’s a difference,” he says. “One is pressure. The other is escalation.”
“And how long do you wait before deciding which one it is?”
He leans back slightly, considering me now rather than the map.
“You don’t decide based on movement,” he says. “You decide based on impact.”
Impact. He means damage…loss.. I hold his gaze.
“So we wait until they prove it?”
A pause.
“Until it matters,” he says.
Something in me tightens. “It already matters.”
The words come quieter now, but they don’t soften.
“They’re not pushing empty ground,” I continue. “They’re pushing my people.”
His jaw shifts, barely, but it’s there.
“And you want to respond to that now,” he says.
“I want to prevent it from becoming something we have to react to instead of prepare for.”
The room stills. Rhydon studies me for a moment longer, his composure settling back into place, but not quite as effortlessly as before.
“Preemptive movement carries its own risk,” he says. “You stretch resources. You create gaps. You invite instability where there was none.”
“Only if you move without control,” I reply.
I step closer to the table, my attention returning to the map.
“We don’t break formation,” I say. “We just reinforce pressure points.”
I trace a path along the edge of the outer territories, not touching, just indicating.
“Hold the line here,” I continue, then shift slightly. “But strengthen where they’re already pushing.”
Silence. No one interrupts.
“We don’t wait for impact,” I add. “We reduce the chance of it.”
Rhydon’s gaze follows the path I’ve outlined. He sees it.
“And if you’re wrong?” he asks.
The question is quiet, but sharper than anything he’s said so far. I don’t hesitate.
“Then we’ve reinforced the most vulnerable areas of our defenses.”
A pause.
“And if I’m right,” I continue, “we stop them before they reach a point where waiting is no longer an option.”
King Erik exhales slowly, his gaze settling over the map with new focus.
“That’s not reckless,” he says.
Rhydon goes still.
“That’s strategic repositioning.”
King Alexander’s gaze shifts between us, then to the map.
“We don’t abandon structure,” he says. “We adapt it.”
The tether hums in agreement within me.
“We reinforce targeted regions,” he continues. “Without compromising the line.”
Rhydon inclines his head. “Of course.” He’s smooth and controlled, but something in the room has shifted.
King Erik looks at me, then to Rhydon, “Which brings us to timing,” he says.
The air changes again. It’s subtle, but undeniable.
“The wedding cannot be delayed,” King Erik continues. “Not without consequence.”
Of course it can’t. Everything leads back to that.
Rhydon nods once. “Agreed.”
I feel the tether shift faintly behind me. Not enough to distract. Just enough to remind me that I am not standing in this alone. Even if it feels like it. Silence stretches before Rhydon speaks again, his tone shifting just slightly, lighter, but no less deliberate.
“There is also the matter of perception,” he says. “The people must see stability. Continuity. Confidence.”
His gaze flicks briefly toward me.
“Especially after… yesterday.”
King Alexander nods in agreement. “Agreed. Security will be adjusted,” he says. “Caylix, I leave that to you.”
Final. No room for debate. Caylix nods once, accepting it without question. The meeting continues. Logistics, timelines, movements. Everything that sounds like control. Everything that feels like preparation. Everything that assumes we have more time than it feels like we do. By the time it ends, nothing has been resolved, and everything has. I rise when expected, moving with the same practiced composure I’ve held my entire life. Caylix falls into step behind me as we leave the chamber. We don’t speak immediately. The corridor is quieter, the weight of the room still clinging to the air between us.
I don’t make it far down the corridor before I stop. This time, I do turn.
“Are you ready to tell me what you held back yesterday?” I ask.
Caylix’s gaze settles on me, steady, unreadable in that way that only makes it harder to look away.
“Not yet,” he says.
A breath leaves me slower than I intend, and I glance past him for a moment, collecting myself before I continue.
“This is… a lot,” I say, quieter now. The words feel strange, but I don’t take them back. “The wedding. The alliance. Standing in that room and knowing my life has been decided for me.”
I ponder that before continuing.
“And yesterday…” I stop there. Because I don’t need to say it. He felt it. My gaze returns to his. “That wasn’t… my best moment,” I say instead, more measured now. Not quite an apology. Just the truth.
“You don’t owe me explanations for things that aren’t about me,” I add, not pushing, but not stepping back either.
Behind me, footsteps echo faintly through the corridor. I glance back. Rhydon stands at the far end. Not close enough to be part of the moment, but not far enough to have missed it.